Chapter 3 Friendly Rattlesnakes #2
Sonny didn’t skimp on the tour. In ten minutes he’d cracked the hood and was in full cry about how he’d managed to add a zillion miles an hour to the engine by reinforcing the engine block so he could add NOS to the fuel mix.
Brady didn’t bat an eyelash at this, although there was no street legal reason to add nitrous oxide to your fuel mixture, because God, this car was beautiful.
It had been in one accident before Ace bought it, according to Sonny, and then it had been reborn.
So it was that Brady was bent over the vee-hi-cul—and God, it really was as sexy as Ace made it sound—when a giant powder-blue Cadillac pulled around the garage.
Instead of parking on the hardpan, with two Audis, a minivan, and the totaled SUV, the Caddy pulled around to the hardpan in front of the little house to the side of the garage.
Brady looked up in time to see three people get out—an enormously tall bald man with a goatee, who was zipping the top half of coveralls like Ace and Sonny wore, over biceps as big as Brady’s head; a skinny twenty-something youth with curly dark hair and dreamy eyes; and a tall, elegant man in his thirties with dark blond hair, well-cut and slightly gray at the temples, tan slacks and green sweater set that was right out of a men’s fashion catalog for casual wear; and the sharpest, iciest pair of blue eyes that had ever cut Brady to the depths of his soul.
The big bald guy and the kid sauntered toward the garage like they were comfortable there. The kid wore a hooded gray San Diego State sweatshirt, frayed jeans, and tennis shoes, and he wandered over by Sonny and took a look inside the SHO.
“Whatcha doin’, Sonny?” he asked, a note of coyness in his voice. “You, uh, working on the SHO?”
Sonny shot the kid an indulgent look, like you’d give a younger brother.
“No, Ernie, I’m not working on the SHO. I’m giving this cop a tour, ’cause he’s giving us a Subaru carcass. Ace said I could make it rise from the dead, like a zombie car, and I’m gonna make that shit sexy like a vampire. It’s a solid engine. She might even fly.”
Ernie grinned at him. “So if you’re starting a new project car….”
Sonny grinned back. “Yeah, your Kia’s all done. I was giving it a last once-over when this cop fella arrived. You want me to drive it off the rack for you?”
Ernie gave a happy little wriggle. “When you got time,” he said, obviously extremely tickled.
“Well, you’ve been patient,” Sonny admitted.
He glanced up at Brady with apology in his eyes.
“I don’t want to cut this short,” he said, “’cause you ask good questions and you’re not entirely stupid.
If you come back around six, we can talk cars some more.
” He said it like a kid remembering his manners, and Brady was unexpectedly charmed.
“I’ll try,” he said. “I’m on the clock now, but if I can get away by then, I’d love to come ogle her some more. I haven’t even gotten to the four on the floor or the suicide webbing lock.”
Sonny nodded happily. “There’s a nice show in Nevada in a month that….” His eyes grew big then, and he looked like he wanted to clap his hand over his mouth. “Never mind. We have nothing to do with that. It’s a good show is all.”
“Don’t worry,” Ernie said, calling over his shoulder as he meandered toward the auto bay. “He won’t arrest you for street racing.”
Brady glanced at Ace just in time to see him scowl at Ernie. “Well, I hope not,” he said grimly, but Ernie shrugged.
“When you know, you know, Ace. He’s a good one.”
“I do enjoy a good car show,” Brady said, trying to be diplomatic. “I’ll check it out.”
Ace sighed, long-suffering like, and said, “Out near Sparks. The illegal shit don’t happen until after dark, but folks park their sweet pieces out there and talk about ’em.”
Brady grinned at him, so much more than pleased. “I’ll leave the uniform behind,” he promised.
Ace snorted. “Probably a good idea if you want folks to not run away screaming.” Then he gave a nod to somebody over Brady’s shoulder. “Eric,” he said cordially.
“Hello, Ace,” the nicely dressed man in the slacks said, and Brady almost jumped.
“Dear God, you’re quiet,” he snapped, because damn, the guy was suddenly really close.
He, uh, smelled sort of good. Like sandalwood and hot sand, but that may have been the desert.
“Apologies,” the man named Eric said, and his voice was low and cultured—fancy, as Brady’s parents would have said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He left it at that, but he stayed there, at that not-quite-uncomfortable distance, and Brady took a step back because he didn’t play dick-measuring games.
“We were just, uhm, talking about—”
“Illegal street racing,” Eric said dryly. “I do understand nuance.” He gave Ace a brief, deferential glance. “Ernie said I could use Jai’s vehicle to run errands, but I had to ask you first.”
Brady felt a tiny stab of disappointment. He was hoping for that super-sexy emphasis—vee-hi-cul—but this Eric guy was too snooty for that. Vee-ickle. Oh well.
Ace rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said, sounding baffled. “It’s Jai’s car, but fine, yeah. If Jai says so, go to town.” He chuckled. “Which I guess you were going to do anyway.”
And Brady got it—“go to town” meaning “go wild” or “have a good time,” and well, “Go to Barstow or Palm Springs or any place with a grocery store that sells salad and a bakery with soft bread.”
“Which town would you suggest?” Eric asked, and Brady had to look at him twice to see if he’d gotten the joke. A corner of his mouth was quirked up, so, well, maybe.
“Palm Springs,” Ace said decisively. “They got a Walmart like everybody else, and it’s farther than Barstow, but since it’s cool at the moment, your ice cream won’t melt, and you might have a better selection.” He wrinkled his nose. “You got a fridge at your place?”
Eric nodded. “Yes. It’s small—”
“Ask Ernie if you can borrow some of his freezer space.” Ace grimaced. “We are slightly south of hell out here, son. Buy in bulk, worship your fresh fruit if you got some, and plan for a week and a day, minimum.”
“A week and a day?” Brady asked, curious.
Ace grimaced. “I don’t know about you guys, but if I plan to go grocery shopping on one day, something almost always comes up. You plan on a week and a day with some canned soup in the cupboards, and you can stretch it out.”
Brady had to laugh. “That’s good advice,” he said, almost surprised. “I’ll have to remember that on my day off.”
Ace gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Like I said—you live out south of hell, you pick up some survival tips right quick. I’ve got another one about thumping the scorpions out of your boots if you leave them outside your door, but I’m sure you’ve heard it.”
Eric, who had moved a little to Brady’s side, actually whimpered. “No,” he said faintly. “I have not.”
“Well,” Ace said contemplatively, “I might’ve learned that one in another desert. You take that car wherever you need to, okay?” Eric nodded and, with Brady, watched him turn back to the garage, where he hollered to Ernie. “Kid, you ’bout done fawning over that Kia yet?”
“Nope, Ace!” Ernie called back. “She’s just too pretty!”
Ace’s raw chuckle would have sent shivers up Brady’s spine, but… but… but he’d seen that moment, the tender one between Ace and Sonny, and had realized that even if Ace was his kind of man, he was taken.
“What desert do you think he was talking about?” Brady asked, almost in an undertone.
“I’d wager Afghanistan,” Eric said, also pondering. “Although he and Sonny are so very young.”
“They’re grown,” Brady protested, although it occurred to him that Ace might have been younger than he’d first assumed.
“He’s taken,” Eric said quietly, his voice such an echo of Brady’s own thoughts that he had to double take.
“I figured,” Brady said. “How’d you know?”
Eric gave him a condescending look. “I’ve actually seen them kiss,” he said, like it was a special pass to something. Well, maybe it was. “Are you planning to become a fixture here?”
There was something… cagey in that question, and Brady couldn’t put his finger on it.
“I’m only here to drool over the car,” Brady said, which had sort of been the truth when he’d shown up that day, but given how many gay men he’d met in a scant fifteen minutes, after living in this craphole for a year and having to drive to Palm Springs for so much as a lazy smile, he was thinking he might have to rethink his original plan.
He didn’t know about the giant man who owned the Cadillac, but that dark-haired kid named Ernie losing his shit over a Kia Sportage had to be gay.
And Mr. Veh-ickle was definitely setting off Brady’s specially honed bells.
“Fair. It’s quite beautiful.”
Brady glanced at him sideways, trying to decide if he meant Ace or the veh-ickle. But Eric’s face was almost impassive, and when he deigned to glance at Brady, his eyes were every bit as arctic cold as Brady remembered.
“So you going to Palm Springs?” Brady asked, wondering which one of them was going to break first and head for their vee-hi-culs.
“Yes,” Eric said, sighing and breaking first. “I have two hungry kittens who wait for no man.”
Aw, dammit. Brady had been building up a right steaming head of hatred for this guy but… kittens?
“You like cats?” he asked, suddenly achingly curious.
“I do,” his new acquaintance said. “I thought I was a dog person, really, but these two kittens….” He shook his head in bafflement. “Special-needs kittens,” he added, and there was almost a question mark at the end of his voice. “They’re really quite… winning.”
Brady nodded, and there went the last of his hatred in a little puff of steam.
“My parents had an old three-legged dog before they were killed,” he said, hating himself for this story as soon as it came out of his mouth.
“I would have taken him with me, but he passed about a week after they did. I think he didn’t want them to be lonely in heaven without him. ”
Those icy blue eyes moved over him, and for a moment Brady expected to be ripped to shreds with a glacially smelted blade of disdain, but instead….
He got a winter-blue sky. It wasn’t warm and human yet, but it wasn’t cruel, either. Instead it was… wistful. Like he was too far away to be warm, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate that the sun was out just the same.
“That’s a lovely memory,” Eric said, the surprise in his voice as distant as his eyes had been.
“You should get a dog of your own.” He gave another one of those nonsmiles.
“But perhaps you can treat yourself with a four-legged variety.” And with that he nodded his head in farewell and turned toward the Cadillac.
Ernie came running out of the garage on his heels.
“Eric!” he called, sounding frantic and disjointed at once. “Olives!”
The taller man turned toward him in surprise—real surprise, not that distant surprise he’d recently shown. “I beg your pardon?”
“Small cans of olives,” Ernie said. “Two, maybe three cans. They could save a life.” The kid shook his head in confusion, and Sonny came out of the garage and took the young man gently by the arm.
“Was it a doozy?” Sonny asked, guiding Ernie toward the small cashier cubicle of the garage.
“No,” said Ernie. “Just weird.” He glanced up at Brady almost accusingly. “And you,” he said, with surprising authority. “Don’t shoot. Just… I mean, don’t shoot.” And then he allowed himself to be taken to the cashier’s cubicle without protest.
“What in the…?” Brady muttered, and by complete accident, he met that Eric guy’s eyes again.
They were suddenly focused and present and hot. “I don’t know either,” he said shortly. “But if Ernie tells you something, I’ve learned it’s best to go along.”
“So what do we do?” Brady asked, utterly confused.
“Well, I’m buying olives, and you, my friend, had best not shoot.”
And with that, Eric strode to the big powder-blue Caddy, and Brady—after staring after him for a few heartbeats—took his leave of the odd little garage and vouchered the patient tow-truck driver so they could both be on their way.
HE WOULDN’T say it was odd that his patrol took him near Palm Springs that afternoon.
It was a vast desert, but there were only a couple of routes through it.
One of them took him to Palm Springs with San Diego beyond that.
Another way took him to Barstow. Another way took him to an old military base that had been out of operation for years so nobody went there, and yet another way took him to Las Vegas.
Today, he was on the roster to patrol the strip of highway between Victoriana and Palm Springs, so he was right outside the city limits when he got a call for all possible units for a robbery about a mile from his position.
He probably could have guessed it was Walmart.